


Helpless

by codswallop



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Caretaking, Established Relationship, Facial Shaving, M/M, Minor Injuries, Ray cameo, Touching, not very explicit oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codswallop/pseuds/codswallop
Summary: In the aftermath of a baseball-induced injury, Patrick needs help shaving; David comes to the rescue.





	Helpless

**can you come over david i cd use som hekp here**

_What is hekp??? I don’t think we have any of that_  
_Unless it’s something you ordered for the store without asking me_  
_Is it from ikea??_

**HELP**  
**need some help**  
**its hard to text w onehand**

_Poor bb_  
_Why aren’t you calling me instead of texting?_

**i dont want ray to overhear and volumteer**  
**the help i need is of an intimate nature**

_I hope Ray wouldn’t offer to help you masturbate, Patrick_  
_Besides, you could do that with one hand, couldn’t you?_  
_Unless_

**SHAVING I NEED HEKP SHAVNG i cant shave w my left hand can you pls just**

_Awww ok I’m on my way_

*

It had not been a good week in the life of Patrick Brewer. One bad slide into third at just the wrong angle, and now he’d be sitting out the end of the season with his arm in a cast from fingertips to elbow. He hadn’t broken a bone since he was a kid, and it hurt a lot more than he remembered. And it was his right arm, of course, which made everything impossible. 

Everyone around town was incredibly sympathetic (embarrassing) and gave him their best home remedies for faster healing (annoying) and offered all kinds of help (humiliating). Patrick hated every minute of it. He hated feeling helpless, he hated how much his cast itched, and he hated letting down his team, who had no realistic chance at the league championship without him. 

Shaving was just another item to add to the list of things that had made him feel like a child over the past few days. He’d been putting it off—he could get away with at least three or four days before his facial hair really got noticeable—but now it was starting to look grubby and awful. And he didn’t want anyone’s help, not even David’s; he wasn’t looking forward to being teased. He’d actually made an attempt to do it himself, left-handed, and had nicked the crap out of his throat, to add injury to...injury. He was dabbing moodily at one of the deeper cuts when Ray’s doorbell rang.

“In here,” Patrick called out from the bathroom, when he heard David’s voice in the foyer. He was hoping to avoid a whole David-and-Ray song and dance, but there was no stopping Ray from properly greeting a visitor and offering him six or seven kinds of refreshments, at least some of which David would undoubtedly take him up on. 

“Those macaroons you liked so much seem to have all disappeared,” Ray was saying, his voice traveling closer down the hall. “But I have saved almost half a pint of Boom Chocolatta Cookie Core ice cream, unless Patrick has eaten it, which I doubt. Or, if you’re feeling less decadent today, I can offer you some excellent tea; I was just about to make a cup for Patrick. Horsetail tea! It’s very good for strengthening bones, and no actual horses’ tails are involved in its preparation.”

“You’re so kind,” David said. “Later, maybe, that would be nice, although I do have to get back to the store. Can I come in?” he called out, tapping on the bathroom door, and slid inside without waiting for an answer, leaning back against the closed door and blowing his breath out in a long _whew_. 

Patrick looked up at him warily from the side of the bathtub and braced himself for some theatrical combination of sympathy, mockery, and pity—or at the very least, some arch commentary on the fact that he was wearing nothing but an old pair of loose plaid boxers. He got none of those things. David was apparently all business when it came to personal grooming. He had one of the store’s totes slung over his shoulder, and began drawing items out of it and lining them up on the side of the sink: a shallow basin, a metal safety razor, and a whole array of products in bottles and jars. 

“I’ve been wanting to give you a proper shave for _months_ ,” he exulted. “You’re going to love it. I hope. Wait, you’re too low down there; sit here,” he said, pointing, and Patrick got up and perched on the closed toilet seat. 

“We’ve only been dating for five weeks,” he said, taken aback. “You wanted to shave me before you’d kissed me? Since when have you wanted to?”

“Since we met,” David said, as if it were obvious, and turned the water on to let it run hot. He tilted up Patrick’s chin with two fingers, _tsk_ ed at the cuts on his throat, then turned away to rummage in his bag again, producing a clear cube of something that felt cool and stung slightly when he ran it under the water and dabbed it against Patrick’s neck. It had a pungently familiar odor.

“That smells like your under-eye stuff. What are you putting on me?”

“It’s a eucalyptus-scented alum block. Good for shaving nicks. Shhh. Just let me work, here, okay?”

Patrick shut his eyes and let David go to work on him. He was tired; between the itchy awkwardness of the cast and the deep ache of his broken wrist, he hadn’t gotten much sleep for the past few nights. He was drowsily aware that David was now washing his face with a soft damp cloth that was almost too hot, and he thought about pointing out that he’d just gotten out of the bath, but it was too much work to complain. 

“Hot water relaxes the follicles,” David explained, as if reading his mind. “Also, you can’t put shaving lather on dry skin.”

“Pretty sure you can, though,” Patrick murmured.

“If you want to go around looking like a razor-burned drug addict? Yes.”

“You think I look like a drug addict?”

“I think you look like a gorgeous man with the grooming habits of a high schooler. I’m already aware that you use Gillette foam on a regular basis, Patrick; I’ve seen the inside of your medicine cabinet, even if it wasn’t horrifyingly obvious from the state of your pores.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you were so concerned about my pores. That must have been really distressing for you this past five weeks, the state of my pores, since you’ve gotten up close and personal with them so often lately.”

“It’s been an ongoing struggle, yes. Shush.”

Patrick could hear David messing around with more containers over by the sink, and then he came close again, and Patrick’s eyes flew open at the unexpected sensation of soft bristles against his face.

“Shaving brush,” David said. “Spreads the lather more evenly. Also, it feels nice.”

“It tickles,” Patrick complained, but just to complain, really; it did feel nice, and the lather smelled fresh and sweet-spicy. “I’m guessing this isn’t Gillette.”

“It’s Martin de Candre.” David’s voice was reverent, so it was probably something expensive. “Sorry, I know that won’t necessarily mean anything to you, but it’s...good stuff. I don’t have a lot left, actually; I’ve been saving it.”

Patrick felt his throat tighten, and he shut his eyes again. Breaking his wrist had made him weirdly emotional, he decided. “Thanks,” he said quietly. 

“Well. I know you hate this,” David said, still brushing lather meticulously onto Patrick’s throat in little circles. “Having to go around in a cast and missing your baseball finale and being one-handed and everything, I mean. Giving you a nice-smelling shave is sort of the least I can do. Okay, I think this will work best if I get down here and...can you move your legs apart more, and I’ll just...” David knelt in front of him, pushing Patrick’s knees apart so he could scoot in closer between them. “Don’t move,” he cautioned, and Patrick felt the first chill touch of the blade on the underside of his chin.

It was quiet, then, except for the slight scraping sound of the razor and the muted splash as David rinsed it off in the basin after each deft, careful stroke. Patrick could hear him breathe. He was so close, so focused and intent on what he was doing; it was one of the most intimate positions they’d ever been in, he couldn’t help thinking. No one had ever done this for him before. He opened his eyes, after a few minutes, wanting to see David’s expression. David met his gaze and gave him a momentary distracted quirk of a smile, then returned to frowning concentration, working the razor gently down Patrick’s face and brushing a thumb over his skin in its wake. His left hand came down to rest warmly on Patrick’s bare thigh as he leaned in closer, and Patrick felt a sudden jolt of arousal slice through him. He inhaled sharply, and David froze.

“Oh god, did I cut you?” His fingers dabbed at the spot he’d just gone over with the blade. 

“No,” Patrick said. “Just...nothing. Keep going.” 

“You’re sure? Okay, puff out your cheeks a little and breathe through your nose for a minute so I can do your upper lip.” The razor glided quickly and surely over the sensitive skin around Patrick’s mouth. “I think I’m a natural at this,” David said absently. “I should have opened a barbershop instead of a general store. Or maybe I could start offering shaves on Fridays; what do you think?” He paused to rinse the razor again.

“I bet Roland would love it,” Patrick said, and David shuddered with his entire body.

“Maybe I could take on clients by special appointment only,” he said. “Or raffle off chances for the opportunity for a personal grooming session, and sort of hand-select the winner, if you know what I mean.”

“Uh-uh,” Patrick said. “You don’t get to do this to anyone but me.”

 _“Really,”_ David said, one side of his mouth lifting in a lopsided grin. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” said Patrick. “Keep going.”

“I’m almost done. Lift up your chin?”

David settled between his legs again, placing his left hand a little higher on Patrick’s thigh this time. Patrick was beginning to get hard; he wondered if David had noticed. He tipped his chin up, surrendering his throat trustingly to the blade in David’s hand. It felt indescribably vulnerable and was, he thought, one of the hottest things he’d ever done.

“Yeah, just like that,” David murmured, and moved his free hand to the base of Patrick’s neck, holding him steady while he finished the job in short, careful strokes. “Okay,” David said, much too soon, not soon enough, and ducked in to press a quick kiss to his Adam’s apple. “I think you’re good. Let me just give you a cold rinse, and go over it all with the alum block, and then, for aftershave, I brought a selection, you can—”

Patrick took David’s hand and guided it to the front of his boxers. He was almost fully erect now, tenting the thin cotton, and the heat and pressure of David’s fingers through the fabric drew a slight high-pitched groan from his throat. David made a soft pleased sound in response. 

“So, you liked the shave,” he said.

“Can the aftershave wait?” Patrick pleaded, and David hesitated for a second, glancing back at his beloved toiletries and biting his lip, which was so adorable, so _David_. 

“I mean, it’s not a recommended practice,” David said, but his fingers were pressing, wrapping around to squeeze him through his underwear, releasing him too soon—Patrick gave a moan of protest. “But I suppose, in certain circumstances of, um. Urgency?” David’s fingers were back, skating up and down now, teasingly tracing the length of him, and then they found the opening in the front of his boxers and slipped inside. 

“David,” Patrick gasped. His cock gave a twitch at the contact of skin against hot skin, and it felt like the first time all over again, three weeks ago, when he’d come in his pants three seconds after David had reached inside them to touch him. “Fuck, I want you, I want—”

“Shh, I know. You’ll have to be quiet, though; can you be quiet? And maybe...kind of quick?” David glanced toward the bathroom door, where Ray was probably almost ready to knock and ask if he could start the tea yet. 

“Not gonna be a problem,” Patrick said hoarsely, although he ached to be as loud and slow and abandoned with David as he often dreamed of; he hoped someday soon they’d get to. He pulled David close with his left hand and kissed him. The right hand in its heavy cast still dangled uselessly at his side. He’d almost forgotten about it, but he was vaguely grateful to it, now, in a way. He thought again about the expression on David’s face a few minutes ago, so careful and focused. Then he thought for an electric moment about David shaving him _all over_ , devoting that much tender concentration to Patrick’s entire body, and his cock twitched again. “Please,” he begged. “Please touch me some more.”

David looked at him, wicked and bright and so, so pleased, as if Patrick had just given him the biggest gift; he would never get over the fact that he had the ability to make David Rose look this way. “Okay,” he said, with that little one-sided grin of his. “I can do that.” David dipped his hands beneath the waistband of Patrick’s boxers, easing them down, and Patrick lifted up a little to help him. Then he was exposed, fully hard and leaking a little in the bright light, and it was sort of embarrassing, still, but David inhaled audibly and glanced up for permission, looking hungry. He steadied Patrick’s hips with both hands, thumbs pressing into the tender spots at the base of his groin, and then leaned over and enveloped him with his mouth, surrounding him with slick tight heat, taking him all the way down at once.

Patrick had to bite his left hand, hard, and even then he wasn’t as quiet as he’d meant to be. Quick, as he’d suspected, was unfortunately not such a problem.

*

**might need you to come back after you close**  
**think you missed a spot**

_Incorrect, Patrick, that shave was impeccable_  
_I might have to come over just to admire it though_  
_Also you’re very cute when you’re all helpless and cranky_  
_..._  
_Sorry I didn’t mean that in a bad way_

**no its ok i have been kind of a mess this week**  
**sorry for being so cranky**

_Justifiably cranky and still v v cute_  
_I’m sorry about your poor arm, does it still hurt a lot? I meant to ask but_  
_Somehow got distracted_

**y im in a lot a pain, excruciatimg**  
**definitely need you to come over and distraact me frm the terrible pain**  
**& help me with some more things**  
**totally helpless over here**

_____You’re such a troll_  
_But I love that about you tbh_  
_..._  
_I mean_

**i know what you mean see you soon**


End file.
